Fortunate Ones
by Neva
Summary: Post-Ascension. Charles' brief stint as a Horseman causes him to contemplate and reconsider a few things. Contains some familiar elements of anti-Xavier, but nothing too drastic.


A/N: Ascension, Part II was everything I ever could have asked for in a resolution to the Apocalypse situation. I want so badly to see another season that my heart wouldn't be able to stand it if there wasn't one. Yes, Your Hoverosity, you're truly proud -- so am I, actually -- but what happens _now_? This little fic doesn't really answer that question, because, well, it can't. Hope you all enjoy it anyway.  
  
Disclaimer: The X-Men belong to Marvel and Kids WB.  
  
Dedication: For the Wolfman  
  
**  
  
An informal victory party is taking place outside. Later, we will all gather together -- those who are willing -- and eat, and talk, and prepare for whatever is coming next. And then we will rest, and I honestly can't say that we don't deserve it.  
  
Miracles have not been achieved. Cyclops and Avalanche still regard each other with suspicion and animosity, Bobby is still showing off, Logan is still restless, and Rogue still has a great deal to face, and just as many decisions to make as she always did. Old grudges have not been forgotten. The inevitability of new challenges is not being ignored.   
  
I did not go into detail about what I had seen of the future through Apocalypse's eyes. Some of the images made my heart sing, but others... but others will wake me in the middle of the night from time to time, leaving me utterly bewildered as to what can be done to forestall their realization... or leaving me certain, no matter how firmly we cling to eternal hope, that the answer to that question is .  
  
For right now, however, their place is to celebrate -- both the mutants I've gathered together and, I'm sure, the ones against whom I warned them, so long ago. When Erik and I pitted uncertain teenagers against each other like pawns in an incredibly complicated chess game. When everything happened for a reason, and nobody ever questioned the rules. When it was a matter of light versus dark, good against evil, and _stopping _them_, stopping _them_ at all costs,_ before things became any more complicated than that.   
  
My place is to watch from the window, and to marvel at how much has changed since then, and how many changes are still to come. Ororo and I... and Erik... and even Raven, wherever she plans on going now... our place is to deal with the pain in our own way. To deal with the _truth_. I don't plan on trying to find out from Storm how much she remembers, perhaps not ever, but at least not until she's ready. At the moment, she is alone in her own quarters, reining in and re-orienting her emotions, trying to deal with having gained and lost so much in so little time.  
  
I wish I could say that the memories of my own reconfiguration could just as easily belong to someone else, a construct devised by Apocalypse. None of us felt any sense of purpose except obedience, with only the slightest knowledge of what that obedience would lead to, but all too aware of what we were given in return. I could pretend I did not recognize that any of this was bestowed upon me by my instead of being an amplified version of what had always existed in me. It was the fulfillment of a temptation I had not felt since I was desperate to win Moira back from the man who had so much more to offer her. The minds I've tampered with since then were singled out because of necessity, of reasoning that it would be the best course of action. Never out of personal need, or out of desire. Who's to say which one had been worse?   
  
So. A dark copy of myself, yes, but it is a darkness I recognized, one that was so similar to the rage that I always sensed in Erik. And there is some of it in every regret, every secret kept, every mistake that part of me still insists wasn't such a mistake after all, every time I assumed the role of an elevated being. Every time I believed that the ability to perceive and shape thoughts gave me the innate right to decide what my X-Men should and should not know, should and should not believe. And not just them, either, nor just Cain, Gabrielle, and David. No, I played the overseer of the entire human race, observing them without their knowledge, altering their perceptions, convincing myself that I would be the one to decide when mutants should be introduced into their conscious lives. All in the name of the greater good, of course, because everything always turned out all right in the end. Even this time. But we were close... so close... and so very fortunate to have escaped, to have proven ourselves, to have _won_.  
  
And I can't even say, either, that I don't know why I feel that it's only temporary.  
  
Someone raps on the door, softly. I would have directed anyone else to leave, to enjoy their happiness and alliance while it lasted. But instead, I say, Come in, Jean.  
  
Out loud.  
  
I just wanted to make sure you're okay, she tells me.  
  
That's very kind of you.  
  
Well, are you?  
  
Outside, Warren Worthington is getting Scott to fill him in on life here at the Institute while Bobby throws in a sarcastic comment here and there. Ray and Evan are discreetly comparing notes about life underground, and a small congregation of girls sprawl on the grass, Amara using Tabitha's shoulder as a pillow. Hank ambles from group to group, observing without comment like the scientist he is.  
  
I don't look at her. The shield she constructed against my mental assault, that formed oh-so-briefly into the form of a bird in flight... the wings of fire that extended from and around her future self as she rose into the heavens... even now, it's all far too much to comprehend. Her power surge months ago was part of something much larger than herself, and, as usual, I doubt that we'll know what that something is until it's too late.   
  
But for now, it's only Jean, and she deserves an answer. Becoming so mighty, with so much at my fingertips -- even for a brief time -- is a sobering experience. And becoming a pawn served to remind me of what it's like.  
  
I guess that would be a no, then, she says gently.  
  
I want her to leave. She can't possibly know.  
  
But of course she does.  
  
I turn, slowly, so we're facing each other. Have you been to check on Ororo, too?  
  
Yes. She spoke to me, and she'll be fine. Please don't change the subject.  
  
Do you think I am avoiding thinking about my role in all this? I demand. She doesn't reply. My dear girl, I have done nothing _but_ think about it.  
  
And what have you decided? Jean asks with a smile.  
  
I hesitate to answer. But then I do, of course. That it's dangerous to interfere... if only it weren't so _necessary_.  
  
To interfere with human lives, you mean?  
  
Which is exactly what _he_ was doing. And what Magneto was _trying_ to do.  
  
And what we do, she finishes.  
  
When has it become her responsibility to say what I can't? And what we do.  
  
You're having doubts?  
  
I'm having _regrets_. Playing what if'. There is a difference.  
  
She reaches out and lays her hand on mine. That's _normal_, Professor, she tells me. As normal as it gets.  
  
I know. Not that knowing helps. And I am glad I don't have to alter any memories this time. When just a few short weeks ago, we would have thought nothing of it.  
  
And she knows that, just as she knows that all the platitudes in the world aren't going to be of much use at this moment. So am I.  
  
Are _you_ all right, Jean?  
  
She bites her lip. Yes. As all right as I can be.  
  
This time, I do not look away from her. Staying and teaching here was not your first choice, I state.  
  
She looks at me with surprise, suspicion, and fleeting fear, but composes herself quickly. Eventually, yes, it's what I want. I don't think I could keep myself away. But for now... I want to go to go away to school, study genetics -- I manage to smile at this -- build a life, I guess, among other normals'. I can't forget that I was one of them for fifteen years.  
  
That's very wise. Not exactly how we planned it, but not completely out of line, either. And Scott?  
  
He's staying. You, of all people, should know that.  
  
I, of all people, I agree quietly. Now that the remorse is acknowledged, it's almost impossible to hold it back. You are lucky to have found each other.  
  
I know.  
  
I want to discuss this with you in greater detail, but there will be time for that later. Go back to the others, now. Try to have fun. You've earned it.  
  
It's good to have you back, Professor. She turns to leave, and I say her name once more.   
  
I break the last barrier, or perhaps the first of many. You may call me Charles, if you want.  
  
Again, Jean looks startled, then frowns, then smiles in return. she repeats, and makes sure to close the door behind her.  
  
A minute later, she joins Scott and the others outside. He gives her a kiss, then glances up above her head as if he knows I'm watching him. Our eyes seem to meet, although with those sunglasses, of course, it's always hard to tell.  
  
He trusted me more than he ever believed he could trust anyone.  
  
I suppose I always knew that.   
  
And not only did I betray that trust, but I also didn't return it. When he was still making up his mind about whether to seek shelter here, and later when he expressed his disillusionment about hiding our powers from the world, I was afraid that he would make the wrong decisions, positive that he needed to be corrected before he caused harm to himself or to his friends. So secure in my supposed rights as a telepath, as a teacher, as his surrogate father.   
  
I am alone again, now, but not for long. I close my eyes, using every ounce of will power I possess to erase the images of the desert from behind them. Instead, I focus on one mind after another, never probing too deeply, and trying my very best to accept what I find there for what it is.  
  
Ororo is re-potting several of her plants, a simple task that doesn't require much thought. Two or three photo albums are scattered on the bed behind her. She and Evan spent most of the afternoon together; he has no idea what he wants to do at the moment. She has promised to give his parents all his love the next time she visits. And she anticipates nightmares when darkness falls; by the time I move on, she has nothing to worry about. Greater good, nothing; she stood by me even though she knew the danger as well as I did, and not only this time.  
  
Kitty is sitting between Kurt and Rogue, speculating on what they will say to their classmates tomorrow, but she is also counting the minutes until the meeting that she and Lance arranged for later this evening. She is unsure of what exactly changed his mind about joining in the fight, or what the state of the Brotherhood and our conflict with them is now, or where exactly the two of them will go from here. But she has absolutely no doubt that this time, his intentions are as genuine as his love for her, that he is, in fact, _totally for real.  
  
_Kurt is thinking of Mystique, and trying _not_ to think about the contrast between his reaction when Rogue pushed the statue off the cliff and their response to his mother's trying to make amends. He is also thinking of Amanda -- the topic of conversation practically requires it -- and how what almost happened to the ordinary humans of the world is a further reminder of the rift between them. I wish him luck in trying to bridge it.  
  
Rogue is laughing, and I need look no further for reassurance.  
  
There is absolutely no question in Bobby's mind that he wants to be an X-Man. Even I am not sure how much of that is an actual desire to help those in need and how much is the thrill of close calls and of using his powers in a battle situation. Of all the new recruits, he has the most control and is certainly the most enthusiastic, but if he knows of the risks and sacrifices involved, there is no indication of that, but it's also possible that he doesn't want to admit them even to himself yet.  
  
Alex, on the other hand, wants to return to Hawaii as soon as possible. Fighting evil would interfere (that word again) with his ambition to be a professional surfer.  
  
Then to Hank, to Tabitha, to Logan. To the center of the city, where Mrs. Leech cradles her young son, whispering, You were so brave. After Ororo, I don't reveal my presence to any of the others, not even when I linger at the edges of an all-too-familiar consciousness.  
  
Scott was as devastated as was Jean by my apparent demise, as numbly shocked at the prospect of a world without his savior as she was demonstrative of her grief. All the weight that had rested on my shoulders was, he believed, transferred to him, even when Logan started snapping out orders. It was Scott, however, who supervised the others in school and learned at long last to mix reason with instinct; with both myself and Logan, it was always one or the other. And no matter what he might grow to think of me, I will always be prouder of the example he set than the one that he followed.  
  
I had looked at the big picture, the so-called greater good, but forgot about the smaller picture of a young man desperate for a place to belong, for some kind of meaning. My own signature is all but gone from his thoughts, leaving only what comes from years of training, reprimanding, and guidance. Everything else is his own.  
  
The right decisions would probably have occurred to him anyway. Probably. Would he continue to make them after finding out the truth, after all this time?  
  
No guarantees, save one.  
  
Save one.  
  
I look out our surroundings, so beautiful in the late-afteroon light. They fade into the road, which passes through the gates and through the trees and through the familiar and dangerous city and into the frightening, fascinating, fragile world. From the mutant perspective, especially if all the possibilities are considered, it may have been worth a forced alteration or two. But the mutant perspective is not the only one, even for us.  
  
I look at my X-Men, and realize that what I said to Jean about herself and Scott was true. Fate not spared any of them, but at the same time had been kinder to them than they could have imagined. They did, after all, find each other. And, knowing that, I have to believe that some of my choices, at least, were the right ones.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
